"Fine," I shrugged.
He watched me for a second, then headed down the hall like nothing had happened.
I followed, quieter now, but not backing down.
Just recalibrating.
He stopped at the last door and opened it. “This is your room.”
It was simple, like the rest of the place. Clean bed, dresser, small desk. Nothing extra, nothing missing.
“Downstairs bathroom is all yours,” he added. “Keep it clean. If you need anything, let me know.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a key. “Spare. Don’t lose it.”
I took it. “Got it.”
There was a brief pause, like he was waiting to see if I had anything else to say.
I didn’t.
“Get settled,” he said, stepping back into the hallway. “Dinner’s at seven if you want it.”
And just like that, he was gone.
No hovering, no awkward small talk, no standing there making sure I felt settled. He showed me the room, handed me a key, told me when dinner was, and that was apparently that.
I stood there for a second before shutting the door behind me. The room was quiet in a way that made the whole thing feel even more real, and when I kicked off my shoes and fell back onto the bed, all I could do was stare up at the ceiling and let it sink in.
So this was my life now. No friends, no London, no freedom, just summer classes, work, and living under the same roof as my dad’s very controlled and definitely-going-to-try-to-tell-me-what-to-do business partner.
Fantastic.
I blew out a long breath and did the math in my head. Repairs, mold treatment, inspections. At least a couple weeks, probably longer.
I could survive a couple weeks. I just had to keep my head down, go to class, go to work, and not get into it with him. Cause it's either that or going to my moms.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall, and almost immediately started thinking about how serious he actually was about all this. He didn’t know me, which meant he definitely didn’t know how convincing I could be when I wanted something, and part of me was already wondering how fixed that curfew really was.
Chapter Three: None of My Business
By the time I got back from class, my brain felt like it had been dragged behind a car.
Summer classes were a scam. Everything moved faster, there was more work, and somehow you were still expected to keep up like you had nothing else going on. Which would have been fine if I didn’t also have a job and a life I was apparently no longer allowed to live, because between work, studying, and being on my best behavior, I was starting to feel like I was failing at all three at once.
I pushed the door open with my shoulder and glanced toward the hallway. “Hello?” I called, hoping for an answer.
Nothing came back. I hesitated, then walked past the kitchen and down to his office, leaning just enough to look inside. Empty. I let my bag slide of my shoulder next to the small couch that occupied one side of the office.
A week ago, he’d told me to use the office to study instead after coming home to find me spread out across the dining table with papers everywhere, and at the time it had felt like one more rule to deal with. Now it had turned into something else.I liked being in there when he was home, liked taking up space on the office couch and owning the coffee table, asking questions I didn’t really need answers to, finding small ways to interrupt him just to see how he handled it.
So yeah, walking in and finding it empty wasn’t exactly a win. And I hated that I felt oddly disappointed by it.
I exhaled through my nose, stepped inside anyway, and dropped my bag next to the couch before flopping down onto it. I stretched out without thinking, my feet landing on the coffee table.
I noticed it a second too late.
He hated that.